Creep || Brendon Urie

4 • Ashamed ; Inventive

The blue of her eyes. It haunted him. His fingers sprung for the blinds as fast as he deemed humanly possible, flipping them rapidly. Darkness immediately engulfed the room that this man was accustomed to referring to as his spy-quarters, although sickeningly he discovered now that it would be nothing more than a shelter to hide out from the rest of the world, forever. He figured, what else could he do, now that she knew his secret. And that thought alone rose bile inside his throat.
Getting to his feet swiftly, he took in the moment of sudden dizziness, as a set of clouds blew in swift circles inside his skull. Was he floating? Flying? Whether or not he was, it sure felt that way, he concluded, shuffling his feet to turn and make his way toward the bed. Ah, the bed. He demanded nothing more than the shadows of the underneath of his comforter to encase him in the thickest of pure black, to where everything beyond was nothing more than strictly imaginable. To make it simpler in convincing himself that everything outside wasn't anything at all. That there was no outside. That there was no young damsel with piercing blue eyes aware of his daily pass times. That nothing was truly more than a mere fuck of the mind. And he could do exactly such under the comfort of his beckoning sheets.

But as the palms of his feet slowly shifted to face him in the direction of his desired destination, he found not a thick pile of bedding, but a pair of haunting blue eyes setting fire to his own. Breathing at that moment, was unimaginably difficult, as the sight of her standing before him knocked out every last remaint of the air in his lungs. There she was, in his room, right before his own eyes and directly in front of his face, but all he could do was stare. Stare into her sickly sweet blue eyes that taunted him, and the corners of her devilish lips rising into a rebellious smile full of awareness.

Sitting up abruptly from the pool of sweat drenching his bed sheets, Brendon found himself of the utmost levels of thankfulness to be catching his breath for reasons unfamiliar to the scene that had tainted his over-imaginative dream-state. His ribs expanded and contracted bountifully, trying to regain the air they'd lost prior. And the beads of sweat running down into his eye sockets practically washed away the image that was implanted into his brain, as the burn of the salty liquid reminded him that this, here and now, was infact reality. Not what he had just witnessed.

A dream. That's all it was. Nothing more than a terrifying dream.

Rubbing his stinging eyes with the backs of his fingers, he stared at his flashing digital clock, as his blurred vision began to settle. Four hours, he totaled. Four hours since his true encounter with the stunning pair of electric blue eyes had occurred. Or, perhaps, had that been a dream as well? Brendon could only hope.
The sudden shock of what was truly happening from now on hit him hard, suddenly. Like a fast-pitch softball to the softest, most delicate part of ones stomach. He found himself doubled over, mind racing, skin itching, spine burning, mouth drying, hands shaking and all he could do was simply nothing at all. There was no plan. No way out, or way to undo what had occurred today. She knew. Fuck, did she know, and Fuck did that bring the sickening feeling rushing straight back, in a terrible form of double dosage. Things would never be the same again, and that thought alone, left Brendon doubled over, just like that, for the rest of the evening.
_

She knew the power that simply her eyes held. She hadn't experienced the shock of them while peering back at herself because a mirrors reflection is nothing compared to the extremity of the real thing, but she could tell there was something sickeningly magical that she held beneath her eyelashes. She knew by the way he'd paused, stared back, holding statue-like still for definitely more than a minute or so just staring, and then jumped up, shutting the blinds. She knew by the way they flipped shut instantly, leaving the scene inside the strange man's bedroom window unavailable to Sabrina's powerful eyes. But she knew mostly the lasting effect that her damning eyes held upon each victim by the way a small quiver rocked the pale white blinds, before one of his brown eyes appeared beneath an open sliver, peering through, searching for her own, for one last glimpse. A test of reality, maybe, like the lasting effects of a double take. Moments later, being shut abruptly, once again, leaving Sabrina left with her thoughts just like before. But unlike the last time, they were no longer nagging, but inspired. Sparked. Erupting from the young girl's brain and pouring into her arms, wrists, hands, fingertips as they flooded scribbled English and mangled doodles onto a half-torn scrap of previously-folded lined-paper. And it was that night that Sabrina sat for four hours constructing the cruelest plan she could devise, in the hopes of fucking with the mind of an older gentleman across the street.

She was going to toy with him. Trick him. Seduce him. Tease him. Break him down. Make him beg. She was going to fulfill her deepest of desired romantic persuasions without being pursued, just for the pure thrill of torturing a desperate being for her own pleasure.

Now don't get this twisted up in your mind. This plan that Sabrina was devising, was by no means a romanticized story of seduction of a young girl being taking advantage of by an older male. No. Sabrina was used to that. She was ready for something new. Something fresh, something more... challenging, exciting. She did not plan to, in bluntest terms, fuck this man.
She just wanted a rise out of him, no matter how far she had to go to get it. She wanted to corrupt him, to break him to the point of insanity. She wanted to ruin him.

So as she sat her pencil down, and rubbed the smudged graphite off of her palms and onto her skirt, holding her finished product into the air in triumph, Sabrina had no idea what kind of trouble she was not only about to get Brendon into, but in fact, herself, as well.